


snakes and snails and puppy dog tails

by Tator



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: All secrets will be revealed, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Recovering, M/M, Modern Steve Rogers, POV Multiple, Secret Relationship, Sugar & Spice the therapy dogs, Tony trying to be a good friend, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: “I thought you said you had a golden retriever named Rogers.”Barnes’ eyes immediately went wide. “What the fuck, Barton? Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at him before waving one hand in front of his neck in a slicing motion. And, Clint knew that look all too well.“Bucky!” Someone called from somewhere behind the archer. “Did you tell your teammates that I was a dog?”Or the one where the Winter Soldier has a secret boyfriend





	snakes and snails and puppy dog tails

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the wonderful artist that worked with me for this bang bang! Everyone should check out [imhereforgaysuperheroes](http://imhereforgaysuperheroes.tumblr.com/) and rosegold-darling!!
> 
> Also thank you again bagel for helping me beta this fic at the very last minute! It was very appreciated.

“And we’re back!” Tony exclaimed as he touched the jet onto the top of the Tower. “Celebratory pizza and beer on the com floor? It’s on me. Obviously.” He got various groans in reply. “Barnes, what say you?” 

“Can’t,” came his curt reply. 

Tony turned to look at his teammate. Barnes was completely decked out in his typical midnight outfit, face mask all the way to his steel toed boots. Even the tie that held his hair in a ponytail was jet black. “You never come for celebratory snacks. Someone would think you’re avoiding us.” 

Barnes shrugged. “Can’t stay,” he responded as he walked out the plane, Tony on his heels. 

“Why not?” On Tony’s college applications, he wrote that he was a persistent guy and how persistence was an important characteristic in all good students. One of his professors at MIT a year later printed his application off, crossed out persistent, and wrote “obsessive to the point of exhaustion and insanity” in neat cursive over top. Tony had it framed and still considers it one of the best compliments he ever received. It’s still somewhere in his lab under some old scraps of metal and a few vials that may or may not hold some radioactive materials. 

“Gotta go let my dog out.” If Tony could see the Soldier’s face, which he couldn’t-- and now that he was thinking about it, he doesn’t remember if he’s ever seen his face—but anyways, if Tony could see Barnes’ face, he would think he would be smiling, like he just made a joke. Not that Tony thinks Barnes knows how to make a joke or even really knows what a joke is. Tony always pictured the Soldier going home and putting on his more comfortable bulletproof vest and tac-pants and staring at a blank wall for his daily amusement intake. Maybe on an exciting day he would clean all his guns and order all of his knives in order of shininess before commencing his daily wall staring. 

“You have a dog?”

Barnes nodded and then jumped off the roof with a simple flip over his feet. The first time he pulled that stunt, the entire team rushed over to the ledge, making sure he was alive because no one could survive that sort of fall. No one could jump a hundred floors down and land on their feet like some sort of cat with a genetic grace given to them by the gods above. No one besides the Soldier. They searched the ground beneath them for what seemed like hours, and Tony had JARVIS run scans for any form of life, and all forms of death. But all they got were a few stray street cats and the rats they chased into the sewers. Natasha just huffed, muttering “show off” under her breath after a minute and went inside with a huff. None of them even bother to look anymore, even if sometimes Tony’s heart still skipped a beat when thinking about that freefall.

Tony turned to look at Clint. “Did you know that he had a dog?” 

“A dog? Ah, man. I thought he said _hog_.”

***

The Soldier watched as his Target rubbed at the back of his neck with a wet towel for the thirtieth time in the last ten minutes. He pulled up his glasses to rub at his eyes. Possible eye irritation from the sand swimming around the air, the Soldier decided. Dehydration imminent of the Target from lack of water intake. His Target rubbed at his neck again and shifted to put his head between his knees. The Target is improperly equipped for the desert surroundings. This will make him easier to kill. 

Emotional State: Nervous, slightly agitated, upset  
Physical State: Exhausted, dehydrated, ill  
Threat Level: None  
Mission Status: To Be Terminated

The Soldier switched his gaze to the man standing northwest of the Target. His broad shoulders cast a shadow on the Target’s feet signaling to the Soldier that he had twenty minutes to finish this mission before the army team returned to the Target and there was an increased risk of causalities and failed mission. The man was wearing a helmet with a messily drawn _A_ on the front in some sort of permanent marker. The Soldier did not need to see the man’s face to know this was Captain Rogers, security for the Target. The Soldier researched him heavily before equipping himself for the Mission. 

Rogers was much better prepared for his current environment. The Soldier had watched him drink two of his water jugs, about 24 fluid ounces in each, and there was a carefully placed rag underneath his helmet. He was holding an AK-47, government issued. Two extra 30 round magazines were strapped into his utility belt, and a knife, over 6 inches, possibly 9, not government issued, was strapped to the man’s thigh. The man was wearing a bullet-proof vest, but it was not closed all the way, giving the Soldier access to the rib cage if necessary. The man would be harder to get rid of, but not too hard. Just enough to be interesting maybe.

Emotional State: Aware, concentrated, hyper-focused  
Physical State: Tense, prepared, capable  
Threat Level: High  
Mission Status: Termination Preferred

The Soldier was intrigued. 

***

The team met three weeks later for some training using some of Tony’s fancy new robots. The engineer watched as Barnes and Natasha twisted and turned around in order to make their way towards the fake hostages. There were three of them today, and Tony programmed one to have a hero complex to make it all the harder. Right now, the fake hostage was trying to saw his way through his feet bindings with a rusted pipe, which was a staph infection waiting to happen if you asked Tony. Not that his robots ever did, but these were things to think about when creating reality simulators. 

“So like, what kind of dog is it?” Tony asked suddenly as he upped the difficulty level from 5 to 6 the closer the spy team got to the end. 

He had been thinking about it ever since Barnes mentioned it. Was it a big dog? Small? Was it mean like him? Or was it his complete opposite and licked everyone faces as they went by? Was it a Chihuahua? Tony guessed it was a Chihuahua named Princess who had a pink rhinestone collar and a dog bowl with a crown on it. At least, he really, really, _really_ wanted it to be one. But knowing Barnes it was most likely a Rottweiler guarding his home at all times in case something terrible happens, like a neighbor tries to, like, be nice to him for once. Utterly tragic really. 

The man being questioned dug a dagger into one robot’s circuit boards, which was really going to be a bitch to fix later, before looking up at where Tony was standing. He wasn’t wearing his goggles today but still had his staple mask, so Tony was able to see how unamused Barnes was with the timing at the gigantic eye roll he threw Tony’s way. “What,” he deadpanned. 

“You said you had a dog. What kind of dog?” 

Barnes threw Natasha into the air over one robot and then ripped out some exposed wires sticking out of its face. “A golden retriever.” If Tony thought the man was capable, he would have said Barnes was laughing. 

***

The trash can lid was thrown to the floor across the room. The sound of it skidding across the dirt made the Soldier want to crunch it into the ground with the foot of his boot. The man was a fool, an _idiot_. He was not fit to be in the field, fighting the Soldier. He was an unfit opponent, and the Soldier is insulted, infuriated that he was sent on a mission where the man wouldn’t fight back. Does he not know who he is facing? The Soldier helped shape history! He has altered the course of mankind! And the man before him dares offend him by pulling back his punches as if the Soldier cannot take the hit, by not using the knife strapped to his thigh as if the arm was incapable of taking a few scratches. The Soldier wanted to remind him who exactly he was fighting.

There was blood coming out of the right side of the man’s mouth. Blood that the Soldier put there because he was a good fighter, a capable Asset, and he will kill his Target and this man who has the audacity to _not fight back_. His hands were up in front of his in a defensive measure, but his fists were not closed. The Soldier wished to break his fingers and hear the man scream. Then, he would remember.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said as a drip of sweat fell onto the strap of his Kevlar vest. 

Do not engage. The man wants to distract you from the Mission. He knows that the Soldier is capable of killing him and the Target and in a plea to live is trying to confuse the Soldier. He would stand a better chance if he would just throw a punch. The Soldier sneered at him. 

“I know they’re making you. You don’t want to do this.” 

Do not engage. The man does not understand reality. The man does not understand that if the Soldier returns with an incomplete mission he will be Punished. The Soldier does not want to be Punished. Therefore, he wants to complete the Mission. Research shows that Rogers was capable of simple rationale and logic and should understand this. 

The Soldier used the arm to break the man’s second rib, left side. The man did not scream. The Soldier wish he did, wished he remembered that this was a fight. And that he was going to die. He just held onto the arm with a strength that the Soldier had not seen before. Did he not know how many this arm had killed? The power this arm had? 

“You don’t have to kill this man for them.” 

Do not engage. The man does not know. He does not understand what the Soldier does. He is a killer, a killer for HYDRA. He is an Asset for HYDRA. 

“They’ve confused you. They’ve taken you away from yourself. You don’t have to do this!” 

Do not engage. 

The Soldier knocked the man onto his back and held the arm up, waiting for it to recalibrate for a terminating strike. 

“This isn’t what you want,” the man said through his broken teeth. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“I have a Mission!” the Soldier screamed. His throat was scratchy. When was the last time he talked? 

“Not for them! Don’t do this for them!” Rogers clenched the hand that was pushing firmly down on his chest and brought his other hand to the Soldier’s arm. It startled the Soldier. No one had ever tried to touch the arm before, not unless to disengage it. Disarm it. But the man put his hand over the Soldier’s wrist, and the arm recalibrated to the touch, not engaging for a terminal hit. The Soldier could almost feel it. If he tried hard enough. “You’re not an asset,” the man continued. “You’re a slave. You don’t have to do this.” 

He spoke gently, like he was going to scare away a rabid animal. The Soldier was not an animal! And he was an asset! He was _the_ Asset. How dare this man think any less of him? Like he was so mighty! Protecting a man who would sell him out in a second for a quick payout? He was no matter than the Soldier. Just muscle for hire. 

The Soldier spit in the man’s face, who flinched back. He recalibrated the arm again. “You are my Mission,” he said slowly, deliberately. 

“Then finish it ‘cause I won’t fight a man who’s tortured into killing. You don’t even know what you’re killing for anymore.” 

The Soldier wanted to respond. Wanted to say that what this man was saying wasn’t true. That he knows why he is killing, why these people have to die. Because HYDRA wants them dead, because he was told, because he wants to survive. Because he maybe wants to be free. But he didn’t say anything. He just stared as the arm whirled beside his ear, and the man’s grip got stronger on both of his arms. Or at least he thought it did. 

There was a blast somewhere off to his right that sent all the objects in the vicinity up in the air. The Army team, the Soldier thought briefly. He tried to get his eyes to focus on how many were coming in. Five, maybe six. All highly trained and all with government issued weapons. But he couldn’t really tell. They started shooting before he could even count. 

Threat Level: Extremely high  
Mission Status: Unlikely to be completed 

An explosive device was thrown nine feet to his left and the Soldier could only bring his arm up to cover his face before he was flipped onto his back with a body covering his own. The blast was small, easily contained, and it did not burn very hot. 

The body moved off of his once the dust started to settle around him, and the Soldier watched as Rogers couched up blood, clutching his side. There was a piece of shrapnel there, in between two of his ribs, probably around five inches deep. The wound would most likely be terminal if not treated immediately from loss of blood or infection. 

The Soldier brought up his hand to touch the wound, see the chance that this man was going to die from this, from saving his life. Rogers gripped his wrist before he made contact. 

They stared at each other for a long moment. The Soldier was looking for an answer or a clue to why this man would do something like this. Why save the man who was trying to kill you? Was he truly a fool? The Soldier did not understand. He was not equipped with this protocol. Why did HYDRA leave instructions for this situation? The man coughed again. The Soldier watched as blood welled into the side of his mouth where two broken teeth were sitting. 

“Run,” Rogers garbled out weakly. The Soldier continued to stare, continued to want to touch the wound on the man’s side to see if he would get blood under his nails. “Get out of here!” the man yelled. 

So the Soldier ran. 

Threat Level: Same  
Mission Status: Unknown, Return for further instructions

***  
Natasha was not a patient woman. She clicked her nails against the mahogany side table. It was pretty nice, she thought in between her bouts of irritation. She _hated_ waiting, and she had been here for what felt like hours. She had taken down empires in shorter amounts of time. _God, what was taking them so long?_ She thought to herself. Nothing out in the city could be that interesting-- Well, she could think of a few things, but nothing that a _civilian_ could do. She really didn’t see why they were out past 10 o’clock. They were supposed to be an old married couple. At least, that’s what the intel had said. 

So when she heard what sounded like two male voices and two different animal leashes, she perked up a little and stopped picking at the non-existent dirt under her fingernails with her smallest knife. She sat up a bit straighter on the couch in the dark apartment and counted all the exits again. Just in case. 

The lock clicked and she watched as the door swung open. 

“Your job would drive me up the wall,” Barnes said. He was watching another man about the same height and build take the leash off of some police looking dog, and Natasha was almost disappointed that he hadn’t noticed her yet. He was losing his touch, she thought, but then again, she wasn’t entirely sure she would think anyone would be able to get into her place with the amount of traps she had set up in her home. Barnes’ wasn’t any different. She did have to break a sweat to get in here, which she was mildly impressed about. But only mildly. 

Barnes spun around as the other man stood up and finally looked into the apartment. Ah, there it was. She smiled to herself as she got a little bit of a better look at the other man from the light coming through from the hallway. He was quite the looker from what she saw. Good for Barnes. “Get behind me,” he ordered the other man while physically pushing him. The police dog growled at her and crouched down low, but the little one just stood stock still, tail between its legs. 

Natasha watched as Barnes pulled out a knife from somewhere around his ribs and decided not to torture him anymore. A light stabbing between friends was forgivable, but the Soldier didn’t throw a knife and expect the other person to live. Something she had learned from him all those years ago back when they were less respectable members of society. “Found yourself a hot date, Barnes? I gotta say, he sure is a cute one. Wanna share?” 

He threw the knife in front of her toes before turning on the light and glaring. “Can’t you just wait until I’m home like a normal person?” He ushered the dogs into the apartment, but still kept the man behind him. She saw his metal fist flex a few times as the adrenaline stopped pumping. Natasha was slightly insulted that Barnes would think that low of her, but then she took a quick trip down memory lane and forgot about. Besides, the protectiveness he was showing was almost cute. Almost.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Natasha pulled the knife out of the floor and tossed it back towards Barnes, who caught it easily right before it would have hit him square in the heart. The man behind him ran a hand down his face, and she could hear him mutter something directed towards Barnes. He didn’t react to it as he continued to stare at her. “Don’t be rude now. Introduce me to your _friend_.”

***

The Soldier—no, not the Soldier anymore. Not the Asset either. Someone different. He didn’t know who. The unnamed man and the man with no name watched as Captain Rogers slept peacefully in his hospital bed. Peacefully might not be the right word, but he had long lost his ability to be eloquent in his descriptions. 

The man’s face was swollen up because of a broken eye socket that the Soldier had given him. Not with the Arm, but with the other one, the human one. The-Man-With-No-Name had a cut across his third knuckle and had broken his fourth one because of the fight with the man in front of him, but he heals much faster Rogers. The only thing left on him is the whispers of confusion in the back of his mind and the ache in his shoulder. 

There was no more blood in his hair, but he knew that if he were to peel back the bandages along the sleeping man’s ribs, The-Unnamed-Man would find plenty of it dried underneath due to the wounds that the Soldier gave him. Wounds the man could have prevented if he just fought back. Wounds he gave himself by trying to save the Soldier from his own unit. 

He should have. Should have fought back. He could have killed the Soldier. Could have ended everything right there and then. The Soldier had done his research. He knew that Rogers could have finished this. HYDRA would have fallen. And the Soldier would be dead. The fucking Soldier _would be dead_. 

He wanted the Soldier dead. Wanted it so bad he could also feel the itch of razors on his wrist, but he knew he would always be crawling in the back of his mind somewhere, protecting itself from any harm he could do to it. Nothing really works out the way he thinks it should. 

Emotional State: None  
Physical State: Comatose  
Threat: None  
Mission Status: Unknown, Do not return to Handlers

***

The team was finishing up the last round of paperwork for the latest alien invasion the previous Friday, and Tony was bored. Like really, really, super, uncontrollably bored. And he hated being bored. It made his fingers twitch and his brain move a thousand miles a minute. He always did come up with some great ideas while waiting around for Pepper to come back from her exec meetings though. Not that she appreciated some of the things that he made. Apparently blowing things up and getting the entire building evacuated was _disruptive_ no matter how sweet the gesture was going to be. 

“What’s its name?” He asks suddenly. 

Everyone looked up at him, seeming annoyed he even bothered to open his mouth about something that wasn’t getting them out of there. 

Barnes rubbed at his face mask the same way somebody would rub their face in annoyance. “What’s your fascination for?” 

“We’ve been teammates for like 3 years.” 

“So?” 

“So?” Tony repeated. “Clint comes up to my apartment every time he’s hungover. Natasha and I catfish people on tindr together. Hell, I’ve even joined Thor and Bruce in their yoga club in the mornings.” 

“No one was to know about the tindr,” Natasha growled quietly, flipping over one of her papers with a dramatic flair that even Tony was slightly impressed by. 

Barnes rolled his eyes over at Tony. “Like I said, so?” 

“So I didn’t even know you had a dog! None of us did.” 

“SHIELD pays me for my information and my services, not to hang out with you or be your friend. I watch your six the same amount whether you know my dog’s name or not,” Barnes responded as he gathered his stuff to leave. 

Tony sighed and sunk lower into his uncomfortable desk chair, his arms loosely crossed in front of his chest. The arc reactor was too warm for him to rest his arms comfortably, and Tony wanted to forget about it for just _one fucking second_. So much for getting to know his teammates, he thought. 

He walked swiftly to the door but stopped with his hand on the handle. The Soldier sighed loudly before turning around. “His name is Rogers,” he addressed the team before spinning on his heels and leaving. 

“Who names their dog Rogers?” Clint asks. 

“Who names their dog Lucky?” Natasha counters. 

“Rude.” 

“But true.”

Clint flashed finger guns at her. 

***

The Soldier- No, The-Unnamed—No, not that either. _Barnes_. Yeah, that was about right. That fit for right now, he guessed. 

Barnes sat on the park bench with his arms tucked tightly into his jacket pockets and his hat pushed low over his brow. He watched the people in front of him as the wind picked up some of the leaves and threw them around the ground. Some kids laughed off to his left and tried to catch them. Their parents were watching from a bench about ten yards to their north, about a hundred yards to his northeast. And there was a man drinking water from a public fountain about twenty feet from his west. 

Barnes tried not to stare. Really. He did. But he was sort of human now, and all humans have weaknesses. 

He looked better. The time in the hospital had done him some good. His rotator cuff had obviously healed completely normal, and he was able to maintain complete motion in his shoulders and elbows. He was able to fully extend both of his legs and had obviously built back up the muscle in order to keep up with his daily runs, getting longer by the day. The broken eye-socket healed with no scar, and the broken jaw only left a little notch that you would notice if you were really looking. No one would know that he was in a deathly fight not a year ago. No one would ever notice that he was comatose for weeks due to an infection in between his second and third rib sustained from friendly fire. 

He looked _good_.

Barnes maintained his position on the bench and continued to watch his surroundings as the man stood up and stretched his arms above his head. His shirt rode up above his hips, and Barnes tried to see if he could see any scars from where they had to do hip surgery due to the broken socket joint. He couldn’t tell. 

Do not engage, he reminded himself as the man turned around and laughed in the general direction of the children still chasing after the leaves floating in the atmosphere just out of their reaches. The man looked over to the bench that Barnes was sitting at and flashed a smile towards the man he thought was a stranger, towards the man who was the reason he was here, in Central Park, enjoying this autumn day, instead of somewhere out in the desert trying to fight a terror that they had no way of really fighting. He was looking over at the man who made him _retired_ Army Captain Rogers instead of current Army Captain Rogers. He was looking over at the man who _nearly killed him_ , and he didn’t even know. And it was suffocating. 

Do not engage. 

His legs moved on their own until he was standing in front of the man, his fists still tucked tightly into his pockets. _Fuck_. 

“Hi,” Barnes said too loudly in his own ears. 

The man smiled brightly at him, and the wind caught his hair, blonde, and swept in neatly around his face from where it had previously been stuck to his face from sweat, not blood. “Hey,” he replied. “How are you?” 

Barnes nodded shortly and wanted to pull his hat lower onto his face. He wanted to tell this man everything. What he had done. What he had done to him. How he watched as he slept for a week in the hospital trying to somehow figure out how all of this happened, what it all meant. How he left the desert, left HYDRA, left the world, to figure out who the hell he was and who he was becoming all because this man in front of him wouldn’t raise his knife. He wanted to say that he didn’t know what was happening. And that maybe he was a little bit grateful, but really just a lot of bit scared. 

“My name is Steve,” the man said. 

“’m James.” 

Steve smiled. Barnes almost wanted to back, if that part of his face even worked anymore.

Emotional State: Happy, Curious, Interested  
Physical State: Normal, Open  
Threat Level: Unknown, possibly high  
Mission Status: Unknown, no one available for contact

***

Hawkeye pushed the HYDRA agent off the roof and looked down at himself. “Nat!” Clint screamed into the coms. “I need evac! Now! Losing blood fast!” He tied a belt around his left leg and held onto the railing surrounding the building’s roof to keep him upright, or at least what he thought was upright. The world was all a little swoopy right not to tell. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the city, Clint!” Came his quick reply. “The closest team is 35 minutes away _without_ traffic, and we haven’t even gotten the hostages back yet!” 

Clint started seeing black spots in his vision, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep himself standing. “I’m not going to make 35 minutes. I’m not going to make 10 at this rate!” 

He heard a frustrated sigh. “I’m going to give you an address. It’s the closest help we got.”

Clint tried to jump the two blocks of roofs he needed to in order to get to wherever the hell Nat was sending him, but it was getting harder to swing his leg over railing the further he went. He couldn’t feel his left leg at all by the time he as pulling himself down the fire-escape. “Third floor, corner apartment,” he repeated to himself over and over again until he made it down the two stories. He pushed the window open, smearing it with blood, and then fell through. 

He panted into the carpet for a second before flipping himself on his back. “Uh…” he paused, staring at the rifle pointed between his eyes. He closed his eyes and wondered if the help Nat sent him to find was just the sweet mercy of a quick death. He almost wasn’t even that mad though he wished he could have at least gotten a goodbye out of it. A couple of tears. A kiss or two. He wasn’t too picky really. 

“Jesus fuck, Barton! You’re bleeding on the new carpet!”

Clint’s eyes slammed open even though at this point he was completely floating. “Barnes?” 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare pass-“ 

***

It was a cold night, and the wind whipped across James’ face making his nose go slightly numb. He vaguely remembered a time in Serbia when he was tracking some diplomat through the winter. He had information that the Asset needed. It had been pretty cold there, too. Not that the Asset cared though. At least James doesn’t really remember him caring about anything. 

James heard the jangle of dog tags somewhere to his left, and he looked over to see Steve walking towards him with his two pets. He smiled over with that same bright smile he gives everyone when he saw that James was looking in his direction, and James even found it in him to give a small one in return. He was getting pretty good at it these days. The whole smiling thing. The whole human interaction thing. He was getting better. 

Well, maybe he shouldn’t go that far. He was just really getting good at the interacting with Steve thing. But he was the only one that James really wanted to be around anyways. It was only a minor problem. Really. He had this all under control. 

“Hey,” Steve said when he was in hearing distance of the average human. 

“Hi,” James responded, standing up from the bench he was at. The bigger dog, with a name that James had learned at one point but couldn’t really remember and was slightly too embarrassed to ask for the fourth time, yipped at him. It might have meant the noise to be a warning, a reminder not too move too quickly, too threating, around its owner. James thinks he can relate to the feeling of trying to protect this man from things too bad to be around him. If only he could keep himself away. 

“Stop that,” Steve chided, looking down at the dog with squinty eyes. “James is a friend. We like him.” 

The dog looked up at him and back at James before sitting down at Steve’s feet. Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Here,” he said. He held out the leash to the little dog who had its tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth with a blissful expression. “You can take Shug because she has manners, unlike some of us.” Steve glared down at the bigger dog who just stared back. 

James suddenly remembered a feral cat that used to live on his street when he was a kid. He protected it from some neighborhood teens that threw rocks at it for afternoon entertainment. The cat thanked him by gliding around his feet every time he tried to cut across the alley after that. He thinks he might have named it at one point.

He took the leash from Steve, and the little dog head-butted his shin and rubbed its scalp into the fabric of James’ jeans. 

“You can never win with these two,” Steve said shaking his head. “One of them is overly protective and the other doesn’t know any boundaries. Maybe if I combined them, I would get like one normal one.” 

“They are perfect just like this,” James responded. He reached down and patted the little one on the top of its head. He stretched back out and Steve was just staring at him with that same beaming smile that sometimes made it hard to concentrate. James scratched the back of his neck and gestured slightly towards the path that they usually took. 

“How old are they?” James asked once they were a comfortable distance into their walk. He knows he hasn’t asked this question before, but he doesn’t really remember if Steve has ever mentioned it to him otherwise. He has learned that people do not like repeating facts they have already told you. They expect you to listen and remember the information and possibly use it at a later date in a conversation. James listens to everything. He does. He just has trouble with the remembering. 

“Spice is four. I got her in between two of my tours in the military, when she was a puppy, and my friend, Sam, watched her while I was deployed,” Steve explained. “Sugar I got two years ago- maybe last year? It was after I had been retired for a few months. They said she would be a good emotional support animal or something.” 

“Is Spice a…”

“Service dog?” Steve finished. “Yeah, both of them are technically. They got the papers and everything. I think that’s how I got to keep Spice when I moved into my building because she’s bigger than what they specified as allowed.” 

James nodded but really didn’t have much more to add to the conversation beyond that.

They continued to walk around the park, and James watched Sugar’s breath as she panted. It had been a while since he saw this close to a dog. One of his handlers had a dog, he thinks. A big black one that had a missing tooth and a scar over its left eye. He thinks the handler must have used the dog for intimidation, but the Asset was never really intimidated, not from what James knows about him. 

“I am going away for a few weeks,” James says suddenly, almost like he remembered that information just then, which could have been the case. Steve and him have been going on walks together for a few weeks now, occasionally with the dogs, but usually without. People like to be warned when something is going to happen out of their routine. People like their routines. James particularly liked this one, if he was being honest with himself. 

Steve started walking closer to him. “Oh? Where to? Is it a business trip?” 

“Yes,” James said slowly. He did not know if joining the Avengers counted as business, nor did he really know if he wanted it to. According to normal standards, he assumed this counted as a new job. They were paying for his labor. Labor in the form of information and murder, but still labor. But they also had nothing else to do with him. If they put him on trial, he would expose HYDRA’s involvement in SHIELD, which they didn’t want. But if they let him loose, they would essentially be letting the world’s biggest terror operative free with no repercussions except helping them bring down the helicarriers, and they would be getting rid of a large… asset to their team. 

“We are going to Kansas,” he finished after a moment’s thought. He knows that he shouldn’t be telling Steve this, that it is all technically confidential information and that even talking to a civilian puts his life in danger. But Steve didn’t seem to fit any of the normal bills, and maybe James was hoping that they would continue this whatever it was when he got back. 

“Like Kansas City?” Steve asked looking over to him. Their shoulders brushed ever so slightly, and James thinks that he might have started holding his breath. “I’m gonna be honest. I don’t know many places in Kansas.” 

“Me neither,” James admitted. “It’s one of the places around the city I think.” James knew exactly where he was going. Knew the coordinates, the terrain, the urban landscape. He knew that where they were going was an underground bunker that was built in 1987 when HYDRA was trying to spread their organization into the growing uproar of suburbia America, and that when they get there they were going to storm three floors down into a renovated computer server room that was supposed to still have intel on the remaining HYDRA groups around North America. It was his test to get into the Avengers. One he knew and they knew he was going to pass. 

“Is it going to be any fun, ya think?” Steve had a smile on his face that was so earnest and honest that James just wanted fling himself into the nearest river basin just to keep himself from ruining this kind man. 

“It will be… helpful,” James decided on. 

Steve hummed. “Whenever the school sends me on a business trip, it’s usually some big conference that is only like 20% interesting and 80% pretending I care about what the people around me have to say. I mean, I can only hear about research on Picasso so many times before I just self-combust.” 

“Picasso?” 

“Hm, yeah. I’ll admit he was a great artist and changed modern art, but like, I think the art history community just needs to admit that there is enough research on him by now.” 

James listened as Steve thrummed on about his work at the university, and his neighborhood, and his friends. He added in a few things here and there, but he was just enjoying listening to the jangling of the dogs’ leashes as Steve talked about simple things, human things. 

“So do you know when you’re supposed to be back yet?” Steve asked after a few minutes a calm silence. 

“Early October I think,” James responded. 

Steve stopped walking and turned towards James with a small, almost hopeful smile on his face. “Maybe we could get together once you get back?” 

James paused for a second. “I like our walks together,” he said.

Steve’s smile got bigger and he looked down to the big dog, who was looking back up at him. “Um, yeah, I was thinking something more like…” Steve wrung his hands into the leash, and then leaned into James’ space almost like he was going to—

Oh my god, Steve was kissing him. James didn’t know what to do except stand there and lean further into Steve’s warmth. Steve sighed, and James put the good hand on his arm. 

Steve leaned away with a blush high on his cheeks. “Wow, James, I, uh-“ Steve said with the blush going under his collar. “So, when you get back, do you maybe wanna go out some time?” Steve looked up at James through his eye lashes, and James could have sworn that he has never seen eyes so blue. 

“If I say yes, do I get another kiss?” 

Steve laughed, but James wasn’t joking. Steve kissed him anyways. “Was waitin’ for you to get with the picture,” Steve said into James cheek. 

Emotional State: Happy  
Physical State: Normal, Slight increase in heart rate  
Threat Level: None

***  
Clint woke up with a dog licking into his ear. “Oh, gross!” He cried out, rubbing the salvia off his earlobe. “Come on, man,” he said as he looked down at a smiling corgi who was wagging its tail so hard its entire body was wiggling. The corgi woofed once before looking straight up at an angry looking German Shepherd standing above it protectively. It snarled when Clint made eye-contact, and he was entirely sure this dog was not on his side. “Well, hi there, nice puppy. Good puppy,” Clint said as he backed into the couch away from the menacing looking teeth. Why did teeth look so angry? The corgi woofed again and continued wagging its tail. 

“Hey, leave ‘im alone,” Barnes addressed the dogs as he came in from a hallway with a roll of bandages. The German Shepherd wandered off somewhere with a huff, but the corgi continued to stare and wag its tail. “Sugar, go on,” Barnes said, swatting at the dog’s behind. 

“Sugar?” Clint asked, trying not to stare too hard at the other man. He had never seen him without his mask on, and boy, was Barnes one fine looking man. Clint was a taken guy, and a happy one at that, but he still noticed that jawline that went on for days which was nicely extenuated by dark stubble. A piece of hair fell in front of Barnes’ eyes, and he quickly pulled his hair into a bun at the base of his head. Clint might have fallen a little bit in love, or he at least lost enough blood that hitting on Barnes somehow seemed like a good idea for a second or two. He was sure Nat wouldn’t mind. She also had good taste. Though it could be questioned after hooking up with him, nor that he was the one to do the questioning. He knew he was a lucky bastard, and he was taking the money and running with it. 

Barnes sat on the coffee table in front of him. “Sugar is the little one. Spice is the mean one.” 

“Powerpuff Girl fan?” 

Barnes just shrugged. “Wasn’ my idea.” 

“I thought you said you had a golden retriever named Rogers.” 

Barnes’ eyes immediately went wide. “What the fuck, Barton? Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at him before waving one hand in front of his neck in a slicing motion. Clint knew that look all too well. He had given many people that look in his life when Nat was just in ear shot of something he knew she wasn’t going to like. A story about an old ex, that one time he fell off of a building on accident, how he lost his third set of hearing aids. The list goes on really. Someone was about to be in the doghouse, and he really didn’t mean the pun. 

“Bucky!” Someone called from somewhere behind the archer. “Did you tell your teammates that I was a _dog_?”

“No. Of course not, dear,” Barnes called back. He shot a glare over to Clint who was too shocked by what was happening to really comprehend anything. He thinks he lost a lot of blood. “You shouldn’t listen to Barton here. He’s practically a walkin’ dead man.” 

“Don’t threaten the guests.” 

“Barton isn’t a guest. He’s a patient,” Barnes replied with an eye roll. “A patient who will be out in no more than 3 hours,” he said, looking directly at Clint. 

He was about to nod, knowing not to argue with the Soldier, but someone beat him to it. “He’s a guest, and he can stay as long as he likes.” Clint looked up to pretty much see the American Dream in human form, a tall, beefy, blonde American Dream. 

The man pushed his perfect blonde hair out of his beautiful blue eyes, and Clint confirmed that he must have some sort of head injury because he really shouldn’t fall in love so quickly, especially not twice in one day, and doubly especially to not whoever the Winter Soldier is calling _dear_. Adonis walked over to Clint and extended a hand. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers,” he said with a perfect teeth kind of smile. Clint bet that he was the kind of guy to make you breakfast in the morning and make you feel like you had known him your entire life. He already felt like that a little bit. 

“Hawkeye- I mean Barton- wait, _Clint_. Clint Barton,” he smiled back and thought about how warm Steve’s hands were. 

Barnes cleared his throat aggressively. “Anyways,” he said, pulling Clint’s hand away from human perfection forcibly before mouthing “3 hours” at him again. 

Steve pushed at Barnes’ shoulder. “Be nice,” he commanded with a stern look, and Clint started to question this man’s sanity. Because Barnes was definitely giving him what Tony described as the Murder Glare (trademark pending), and this guy wasn’t even affected by it at all. 

“He bled all over the new carpet, and he’s upset Spice.” 

“He didn’t upset Spice. That’s just what she looks like with her RBF, and the reason we had to get new carpets was because I had one too many awkward conversations with carpet cleaners whenever _you_ came home just as bloody. Besides, isn’t Clint the one that Natasha lives with?” 

“Yes, sir. I mean, just yes. No sir- not that you aren’t a sir. I mean you seem like a very respectable guy, so I’m sure plenty of people call you sir. I just-“

“Barton!” Barnes barked. “If you could turn down the puppy love just a little bit, that would be great.” 

“Right, yeah. Good idea.” 

Barnes looked up to Steve. “Doll, will ya fetch me the first aid kit?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Steve replied, rubbing his hand over Barnes’ shoulder. 

And then it clicked. These weren’t just roomies who were overly affectionate. 

“Is Steve your boyfriend?” Clint whispered when the man in question left the room. 

Barnes stared at him such attention that it started to make Clint squirm. Even if the Murder Glare didn’t work on this Steve fellow, it for fucking sure worked on him, like a fucking charm. “Listen ‘ere, Barton, and listen close,” he growled out, grabbing at Clint’s collar and moving in close. “No one is to know about this, got it? You breathe a word of this to anyone, and I will _end you_ , and it will be slow, understand? Don’t forget who taught Natalia all she knows.” Clint nodded quickly, and Barnes let go. 

They sat in silence for a second, both just staring at each other. Well, Clint was staring. Barnes was more glaring, very effectively. 

“Wait a second. Who the hell is _Bucky_?”

***

“You’re kidding me!” Steve’s face lit up with a wide smile, showing all of his teeth, and James wanted to do the same but only managed to get his cheeks to lift. 

He shrugged. “My parents jus’ really wanted a presidential son.” They were walking down a sidewalk, and James held loosely onto a takeout container filled with fries from a diner now three blocks behind them. Steve insisted that they were just as good the next day, and that he should at least take them for a midnight snack. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughed. “And mine wanted me to be a general or something, but at least I don’t have to walk around knowing my name is Buchanan.” 

“Hey, captain ain’t that far off from what I understand.” Steve rolled his eyes but kept smiling at him. It made James’ palms sweat. “Sides, people were used to hearing it in my neighborhood anyways. My mom was always yellin’ at me about somethin’. Wasn’t even my fault most of the time. My sisters were just all good liars and had doe eyes.” 

“I can picture it now,” Steve said, pumping his shoulder into James’ with a grin. “James Buchanan Barnes you get your butt back here right this second!” He mocked. 

James knew that that wasn’t what his ma sounded like, knew it in his bones that she would say it with a sort of calm exasperation, but he couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t really sure. He didn’t really remember it all that well still, and maybe it was a mistake telling Steve this information at all. Maybe he was giving too much of himself away, not that he had much left to begin with. 

“So what did the kids call you?” Steve asked with his fingers trailing over the inside of James’ wrist under the arm of his jacket. “Jimmy Buckaroo?” 

James nearly snorted and couldn’t help but elbow Steve in the ribs. “No one’s called me Jimmy in my whole life, and it ain’t gonna start now.” 

“So what then? Bucky or somethin’?” 

James looked over at Steve out the corner of his eye. Steve was looking down at the sidewalk in front of him, stepping over a giant puddle in the cracks. His hair was ruffled from the wind, and James almost wanted to stop in the middle of a busy New York Street and try to push his hair back in place or maybe just sink his fingers into the warmth of Steve’s skin and not let go. 

“Bucky?” He repeated with what felt like a mouth full of realization that he was in too deep. 

“Yeah, short for Buchanan and all,” Steve said, squinting over at him with an earnest smile. 

James paused for a moment and looked back at the sidewalk. “I don’t think anyone’s called me that before. Bucky,” he repeated again. 

“I think it suits you. It’s cute. Like you.” 

James scrunched his nose and pushed at Steve’s ribs again. Steve laughed and grabbed his wrist just to tug him closer. James pinched him on the hip just to see Steve squeak and then pulled him closer by the back of his jacket until they were knocking hips as they walked. 

They walked a few more blocks, and James lost his french fries to a dog two streets back that thought it was a lot more slick than it was. 

“Is Sam still in town?” James asked when they neared the edge of the park. 

“Yeah, for a few more days.” 

“So Sugar and Spice…” 

“Are well taken care of for the entire night,” Steve finished for him as he curled his fingers into James’ palm. “If they, uh, needed to be that is.” 

“My apartment isn’t too far away from here,” James said, nodding behind him. He had a variety of safe houses around the city in cases of an emergency, in cases where the ghosts would run him out of New York for good this time. He recently got another one in the heart of Harlem with cash he stole from a HYDRA politician who wasn’t using it for good reasons anyways. He wouldn’t take Steve to that one though. It wasn’t a place for real people to go. 

Steve smiled. “Lead the way.” 

They walked a few more blocks as the cold started sinking into James’ clothes. The safe house was comfortable enough and looked like it was lived in with little trinkets scattered around and photos on the walls of places that James vaguely remembers in different ways than the picture shows. 

“This place is nice,” Steve commented as he looked around at the old exposed brick and at a bookshelf with only two books that were actually James’. 

“Did you want somethin’ to drink?” James asked as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, watching Steve take off his jacket and fold it into his arms. 

He couldn’t help but preen a little bit as Steve looked him up and down slowly before settling on his face. “No, I’m alright.” 

James wished that he could have enjoyed the moment a little bit longer, that he drank in how Steve started to get a little pink at the tips of ears after his eyes dilated. He wished that he walked over to Steve slow and coy and like how the Red Room taught him just so he could see Steve track him and go a little bit speechless after James finally reached him, finally touched him. He wished that he peeled Steve’s clothes off slow and that he dragged his hand, both his hands, over Steve’s ribs and sides to see Steve shiver and get a couple goosebumps. He wished that he savored a little bit more in a last _fuck you_ to all the HYDRA assholes who taught him he was a weapon, nothing but pent up aggression only useful for a deadly strike on an enemy as beautiful as Steve Rogers. 

He wished for a lot in that moment. But none of that ended up happening. 

They rushed at each other with what felt like 70 years of anticipation and held back desire. James didn’t really know if Steve was stripping his clothes off or if he was doing it himself. All he could think about was how this was the first time he’s seen so much skin that he didn’t want to cover in blood, and Steve was just _letting him_. He was letting him touch, and kiss, and bite, and breathe, and James hasn’t had this much freedom with another person to just do whatever the fuck they wanted to since he could remember. And he remembered a lot these days. 

Steve panted into James’ shoulder from where they ended up sprawled in the bed a while later. He smiled into James’ collarbone, and James ran the edges of his fingertips up and down Steve’s spine. 

Steve hummed. “That was nice,” he said. He traced over the plates of the Arm, and James feels a tingling sensation at the back of his spine. 

“Nice? Just nice? You’re gonna wound a man with comments like that.” James itched for a cigarette all of a sudden, but he figured out a while ago that people don’t do that much in company these days. 

“What would you like me to say then?” Steve asked, looking up at him with a smirk. “That it was amazing? Stupendous? That you rocked my world?” He kissed James’ chin. “Maybe all of the above?” 

“That doesn’ sound too bad to me,” he said as he pinched at one of Steve’s ribs. Steve yelped and rolled off of James onto his back only for James to roll onto him instead, either arm on the side of his head. Steve smiled up at him and held onto his hips.

“You had a good time?” James asked, not meaning only the last few hours. “For real?” 

“Yeah, For real.” Steve kissed at his nose. “If you aren’t careful Bucky, you’re never gonna get rid of me.” 

Emotional State: Fan-fucking-tastic

***

“Are we there yet?” 

“I swear to god, Clint! Stop asking if we’re there yet!” Natasha yelled. 

“How much longer?” 

“Too long if I have to be stuck with your-“

“Children, children, everyone just calm down,” Tony interrupted. “It’s only going to be like 2 hours tops before we’re back in Manhattan—oh, hey. Coulson sent us a message. JARVIS, go ahead and open it.” 

“What is it?” Bruce asked. 

“Coulson thinks it might just be a random threat. Apparently people claiming to be HYDRA sent in two dog collars and said we’ll know what it means. The address on them is somewhere in Brooklyn,” Tony rattled off, scanning the message. He looked up at the team and saw half looking confused and the other half staring at Barnes. 

“What was the threat?” Natasha asked almost cautiously. She continued to watch Barnes from the corner of her eye. He didn’t seemed phased at all though. He just stared straight at the window in front of him and open and closed his metal fist a few times. Tony didn’t see what all the caution was about. 

“Uh,” Tony looked back at the screen. “Something about the winter ending.” He looked back up at the team, and Clint and Natasha were both keeping their distance from Barnes, who was clenching both fists tightly now. “JARVIS, find out who the owner of the dogs is.”

“Certainly, sir. The owner appears to be Steven Grant Rogers, born July 4th, 1988 in New York City, New York. He currently works as a history professor at a local community college,” JARVIS responds swiftly. 

“What does HYDRA want with a history professor?” Bruce asked, just as confused as Tony. 

“Rogers apparently is a retired army captain- wow, and highly decorated at that. Got an honorable discharge after a plane accident that left him in a coma for 70 days,” Tony read. “He also is the one of two people to ever- oh no.” This couldn’t be good, he thought, scanning the documents that JARVIS pulled up in front of him. 

“Oh no, what?” Clint asked, fearing the answer. 

“He’s one of two-“ 

“He’s one of two people to ever survive a run in with the Winter Soldier,” Barnes growled out. “Fuck!” He screamed and threw his face mask across the quinjet. He crumpled over and covered his face with his hands. Everyone watched as his entire body started to shake. 

“Barnes, he’ll be fine. We’ll get him back,” Natasha said, trying to do damage control on something that Tony didn’t understand at all. 

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Tony asked. 

“Rogers is Barnes’ boyfriend,” Clint explained after a beat. 

“Boyfriend? Like boyfriend-boyfriend?” 

Clint nodded, and Tony felt the blood drain front his face. 

“How long ago was the threat?” Barnes asked, clawing at his hair. Tony watched as strands got caught in between the plates of his arm. His face was resting on his knees, and it muffled his voice. “How long ago?!” he repeated when no one answered quickly enough. 

“Um,” Tony paused. “Coulson says it came in… uh, 9 days ago.” 

Everyone flinched at the deafening clang of metal on metal. “He’s already fuckin’ dead then,” Barnes said quietly, staring at where his fist was lodged into the side of the plane. 

“We don’t know that,” Natasha said. 

“HYDRA doesn’ keep hostages, Romanoff! Not unless they’re _useful_. Steve ain’t like… Steve ain’t gonna be useful. They would've gotten rid of ‘im the second they realized that.” 

“Well then, we’ll do what we do. Avenge.”

“They couldn’t have taken them far. Two dogs and a big guy aren’t easy to transport. Where ever they kept them, it’s going to be close. Do you know of any bases near the city?” Clint asked. 

“There’re plenty of safe houses, but bases?” Barnes shook his head, rubbing his face. “The only one I can think of close to the city was shut down in like ’95 or ’96.”

“Let’s go,” Natasha said with an unshaking confidence, and Tony felt the vibrations of the plane in his feet, thinking about gearing up. 

The team quickly agreed, but for some reason Tony couldn’t stop staring at Barnes’ revealed face. It was like his father’s old bedtime stories of a ragtag group of war heroes was looking back at him. He didn’t know if that made him want to help this man more or less. 

***

“So, uh, yeah. There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom if you forgot yours, and the towels are in the closet in the hall. Just make yourself at home, I guess.” Steve waved around the living room in his apartment. “Sugar will probably sleep in the bed, but uh, Spice likes to stay out here most nights.” 

Bucky looked around. It wasn’t the first time he’s been over. He’s picked him up plenty of times from here, has come in for a nightcap or two, has even crashed through Steve’s window after a completed mission just because the idea of going back to his own apartment was so upsetting that ruining Steve carpet seemed like a better idea. He wasn’t too keen on that one though and Bucky didn’t have enough energy at the time to explain how he got in the locked window let alone crawled up the six flights in the state he was in. 

The apartment was nice. It was homey in a way that Bucky hasn’t had in a lifetime. It was a one bedroom that was filled with mismatched furniture and art on every wall and even scattered around different tables and bookshelves. There were knick knacks from Steve’s various travels on his end tables, and postcards from Sam on his fridge. And absolutely everything was covered in dog hair. Bucky kind of loved it in a way that pulled behind his spine.

“Why’re you nervous?” Bucky asked, realizing that Steve was looking around at his walls a little too much. 

“I’m not nervous,” Steve replied quickly. 

“Stevie,” Bucky said with a sigh. He crossed the living room to where Steve was standing with Spice down at his face, pawing at his leg. “Babe,” he grabbed both of Steve’s hands from where they were crossed at his chest. “I know that face. And that face,” Bucky leaned down to meet Steve’s eyes. “Says your nervous. So what’s up?” 

“Can’t I jus’ distract you with an out of this world blowjob instead?” Steve pushed at Bucky’s chest until he dropped back onto the couch. Steve crawled into Bucky’s lap and pressed a wet kiss onto the side of Bucky’s mouth. 

“As wonder--“ he groaned as Steve’s hands dipped too low and he had to push them back up to more neutral territory. “As wonderful as that sounds, babydoll, I’d rather know what’s got you thinkin’ too hard.”

Steve sat back and sighed. “It’s really not that big a deal.” 

“If it’s makin’ my best fella upset when we are supposed to be enjoyin’ a nice night in, I think it’s a pretty big deal.”

Steve sighed and looked at Bucky with his best puppy dog eyes. Bucky pulled at Steve’s hips to get him closer, and Steve just rolled his eyes. “I haven’ had anyone over in a while is all,” Steve finally admitted while playing with one of the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. 

“Whadda mean?” 

“I haven’ had anyone stay the night since, uh, before I shipped out for the first time.” 

Bucky sat back a minute and thought about the first time Steve stayed the night at his shithole of an apartment. They hadn’t planned it at all. It just happened to be the closest place they could get some privacy, and Bucky really didn’t have a chance to be self-conscious about his living situation or how dirty his apartment was when Steve was busy sucking on his collarbone. He didn’t even really think about it until it was three in the morning and all Bucky could do was rub the back on his knuckles down Steve’s back as he slept quietly against his shoulder. 

He doesn’t remember being nervous like Steve was. He just remembers feeling like he was putting up royalty in the scantiest place in town and Steve didn’t fit in with the hidden guns and the bloodied up knives that he kept around his apartment. Steve belonged in a place like this that had lights and music and personality. Not in the nicest safe house that the Soldier could muster up at the time, which wasn’t even that nice to begin with, if he was being honest with himself. 

“Aw, I’m honored, Stevie,” he said with a cocky smirk instead of unloading all of that right now. “Really must be somethin’ to sleep in the smelliest bed in the city, only partially due to Sugar.”

Steve pushed at Bucky’s shoulder. “Shaddup, ya jerk.” 

“Come ‘ere, punk.” 

***

“Heat scans show 15 people inside,” Tony said, lowering the face mask on the suit. “Shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of them.” 

Barnes nodded. “Romanoff and I will create a diversion outside and draw them out. Banner, stay on the plane unless we call for backup. Stark and Barton, find… find whatever you can.” Everyone nodded and Clint and Natasha took off. Barnes held himself back for a second, checking over his weapon with a deadly accuracy. 

“Stark,” he said, not looking up from his gun. “If I see you with his body- with _Steve_ , I won’ be able to control myself. I will try to kill you to get to ‘im.” 

Tony gulped and nodded. He watched as Barnes ran off towards the base. Bruce came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.” 

Tony caught up to Clint right around the time they heard a big explosion from the other side of the base. “I’m goin’ up in the vents,” Clint declared. “Give me a boost?” Tony cradled one of Clint’s feet as he pushed himself into the vent system. 

“Where should we start, JARVIS?” 

“There are four life signs to your left moving towards your position, sir. I would advise neutralizing them before you continue.”

Tony stayed put for a second and then used a hand blaster to knock the 4 curious HYDRA agents into each other before flying up and knocking them all out. He decided to head down the direction they were coming from. All the rooms he checked were littered with unimportant files and overturned furniture. They really needed to find a better interior decorator. The closed in cement walls and lack of natural sunlight has gotta mess with a guy’s production output. 

“Are you finding anything, Clint?” He asked over the coms. 

“Nothing.” 

“Me, too.” He saw another closed door and opened it only to be knocked down by a snarling dog. “Jesus!” He tried to push the dog off of him, but it kept biting at his arm. “Get off of me!” He pushed the dog off long enough to retreat out the room. “Barnes! I don’t suppose one of your dogs was a big, mean thing with a couple sharp teeth?” 

“Her name is Spice,” was his reply.

“Spice, great. I’m fighting a British girl band,” Tony muttered before taking a breath and entering back in the room. 

The dog pounced on him the second he was over the threshold. “No, Spice. No! Down!” He called out, pushing the dog back to the ground. Spice growled and kept her hackles raised, but didn’t attack again. Tony noticed that the dog had some burn marks around her middle, probably where assholes tried to taze her to take her down. A dog? Really? HYDRA was planning world domination, but they couldn’t keep Spot in check?

Tony looked around and saw that the room was mostly empty. “I got the dog, but there’s nothing else in here,” he called to whoever was listening. 

“Let Spice out. She’ll lead you to something,” Barnes called out. “Romanoff and I took care of all the agents. We’re goin’ in.” 

“Okay, girl,” Tony said, looking down at the still very angry dog. “I’m going to let you out now, okay? Please don’t be like Barnes and try to murder me for being nice.” 

Tony opened the door wide enough to step out and let the dog through. Spice bolted out down the hall, whining loudly. Tony ran off after her. She stopped outside another door and started scratching and barking at the obstacle in her way. “What is it, Lassie? Is Tommy stuck in the well?” 

He opened the door and the dog ran in. “Shit,” Tony muttered. Spice ran up to a body on the floor and started licking at a man’s face. He rushed up to the dog’s side and pushed her back enough to take a closer look. The man was beaten badly, like really badly. He had dried blood all down his face and covering his torn shirt. There were scorch marks on his shirt and pants where he was probably tazed, too. Tony noticed his head was still bleeding, so he tore the man’s shirt in order to tie it around the wound. 

Spice pushed her nose into the man’s hand and whimpered loudly. Tony opened one of the man’s eyes, but didn’t see his pupil dilate or anything. He couldn’t tell if the man was alive. Fuck, please be alive, he thought. At least for Barnes’ sake. “JARVIS?”

“There is a very faint heartbeat, sir. I would advise immediate medical attention.” 

“Right… Right. Okay,” Tony nodded his head and lifted the man into his arms. Spice jumped up and barked at the man, obviously wanting Tony to put him down where she can see him. 

“Open a direct communication with Natasha,” Tony said. “Nat! I got Steve—I think. Hold Barnes off for 10 minutes while I get back to the plane.” He didn’t expect a reaction, and he didn’t get one. He only hoped that Murder McHomicide wasn’t going to try and go after him right now. 

Tony got back to the quinjet in no time at all, and Bruce was immediately on him. He set the man down on one of the benches and flipped up his face mask. “He’s alive, barely,” he said, and Bruce nodded, looking over all of the man’s injuries. Spice growled at him, and Tony pushed her back away from the good doctor. 

He stood over Bruce as he used the first aid kit to clean up maybe-Steve the best he could, but he commented to Tony about how most of his injuries were most definitely internal. “We have to get him back, like yesterday. The injury on his head alone is dangerous enough.” 

Tony nodded and turned to head to the pilot’s seat when he saw a hulking figure standing in the back hatch entrance. “Bruce,” he said sternly, grabbing at the man’s shirt. “I think it’s best you step back now.” 

“Huh? Wha—Oh.” Bruce scrambled away, and Tony backed them away from the man on the bench with only a little bit amount of fear. Really, compared to how he would have reacted to Barnes on a postal rampage three years ago, he thought he was doing great. He hasn’t broken down and cried for Pepper at all yet. 

Natasha and Clint scurried past Barnes with another dog in their arms to get inside the plane, but Barnes didn’t move an inch. “Is he…?” He muttered.

“He’s alive,” Bruce explained. “We need to leave now though. There’s a lot of internal bleeding.” He pushed Tony to the pilot’s seat. 

The other three watched as both of the dogs immediately scurried over to the injured man. The little one jumped up to be able to sniff at the man’s face, and Spice kept looking back to where Barnes was inching slowly over to the them. About a foot away, he sucked in a breath and dropped to his knees like a ton of bricks. He reached up to Steve’s face, but pulled his hand away. Spice pushed her head into Barnes’ shoulder, and the little one jumped down to lick at his face. Barnes shaily touched for-sure-Steve’s hair with his real head. 

“Hey, Stevie. It’s Buck,” he inched in closer until he was able to murmur the words into the man’s skin. “You’re gonna be alright. Ya hear me, doll? It’s gonna be okay. I’m sorry I wasn’ ‘ere sooner, but I’ve gotcha now, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha. Ain't nothin’ bad gonna happen to ya, not while I’m around.” He let out a sob, and wiped his face with his free hand. 

The team looked away. 

***

Bucky woke up a few hours after they both tucked away with Steve’s clock glaring into the back of his skull and the little dog curled up under Bucky’s arm. “Steve?” He asked, looking around the room. His side of the bed was still rumpled, but it was cold. Bucky rubbed at his eyes and looked at the clock again. 3:49am. He sat up, and Sugar looked up at him before putting her head back down and flopping on her side. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked as he walked into the living room, slipping his shirt over his head. 

Steve was lounging on the couch with a water bottle in one hand and his other arm draped over Spice who was half in his lap. The muted TV cast a blue glow over the room and over Steve. Bucky could tell that Steve wasn’t really watching what was happening on it, probably wasn’t paying attention to anything, too caught up in his own head.

“Hey,” Bucky said quietly as he leaned against the wall. 

Steve looked over at him, and for a second, he showed how truly exhausted he was, something he didn’t show often. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah. How long you been up?” 

Steve shrugged with one shoulder. “An hour maybe.” 

Bucky hummed and walked over to flop under Steve’s free arm. Spice let out a huff from being displaced slightly. Bucky slipped his human hand under Steve’s shirt to rest on his stomach and rested his head on his shoulder. 

“Nightmare?” Bucky asked as he watched himself and the Avengers flashed across the TV screen from their latest stint saving the world last week. 

“It’s gettin’ cold out.” 

Bucky hummed again, knowing that was as much as he was going to get out of Steve right about now. 

“You?” Steve asked.

“Not tonight. Sugar’s a great cuddler. She might be my magical cure.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” Bucky repeated. “She’s warm, quiet, doesn’ kick me, doesn’ snore.” 

“Hey,” Steve said quietly, bumping his chin into the top of Bucky’s head. “I don’ snore or kick you.” 

“Sure, you don’, baby. Sure, you don’.” 

They sat in silence for a second. Bucky watched as Iron Man swooped down from the sky on the TV and saved the day like he always claims he does. His ego was big enough to fly the suit by itself some days. 

“You should be more careful, ya know,” Steve said, nodding towards the TV where a video of the Winter Soldier held up part of crumbling building with the Arm and sheer force of will. “Don’t want my best guy gettin’ hurt.” 

Bucky held his breath, watching as the scene he lived played over on the screen. He remembered not being scared then. There wasn’t a threat. All he was doing was using the Arm to his advantage so someone could slip under the rock and save some people. He doesn’t really remember the last time he was scared with the Avengers at all. They were a good team, and they had his back. It wasn’t something he was entirely used to still. 

Bucky felt scared now, like he hadn’t been in his whole life. He was waiting for some sort of reaction out of Steve. An argument, a fight, him getting kicked out and him begging for a chance to explain himself. He went over every moment they spent together trying to seal it in his memory before Steve inevitably told him to get out, leave, and never come back because he was disgusted with the idea of being with the killer who put him in the hospital. That Bucky was what all those people always said about him. He was a bad guy, not to be trusted, a villain that needed to be put down by the heroes of the day. 

Except… nothing happened. Steve kept his arm over Bucky’s shoulder and stayed with his eyes glued to the screen as the story of the Avengers played out into talking about some local news in Hoboken. 

“I didn’t know you knew,” he said after a while, testing the waters and hoping he didn’t dive in too quick.

“Take me for a fool, Buck?” 

“Sayin’ you’re more than a pretty face and a great ass?” Bucky said more out of muscle memory than anything else, still mildly shocked from his biggest secret being exposed over news re-runs and shitty sleeping habits. 

Steve yanked at his ear. “I wrote a thesis about the Howling Commandos’ roll in Western propaganda,” he said like Bucky forgot, like Bucky doesn’t hang on his every word waiting for the other shoe to drop. Bucky pulled his hand away and threaded their fingers together over the top of his shoulder. “Sides,” Steve continued. “I’d know that greasy hair and lack of self-preservation anywhere.” 

Bucky snorted, but didn’t say anything else. Didn’t know what else he could say. He’d spent so long keeping these parts of his life further away than he’s kept himself from his past that all of a sudden he just feels so overwhelmingly exhausted. All of the tension he’s held under his sternum waiting for Steve to find out this awful side of him and hating him for something he couldn’t control all those years ago left him with a terrible ache in his ribs that suddenly melted away and he sunk further into the couch. He clutched Steve’s hand so hard, saying _please don’t leave_ , _I never meant to hurt you_ , _you’re sometimes the only good thing in my life I can think of_ , that it must have bruised. It must have hurt to have an inhuman man grind his bones. 

But, he didn’t say anything. 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky said once the tears in the backs of his eyes didn’t stopped burning his skull. 

Steve hummed and mumbled out a tired, “Yeah?” 

“You know I love you, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Tha’s good.” 

Steve paused. “You know I love you right, Buck?” 

“Tha’s good, too.” 

Steve pressed a kiss onto the top of Bucky’s head.

Steve dozed off sometime between another rerun of the news and the start of the morning infomercials. It was pretty easy to get him back into bed after that, even if Spice was upset that her human seat warmer was getting up. Bucky spent the rest of the night watching Steve’s chest rise and fall as he breathed quietly. He ran his fingers up and down his arm or through his hair or across his jaw just because he could, just because he wanted to, and Steve hadn’t left. He was still here, sleeping, and letting him. Because he still trusted him. 

Bucky ended up falling asleep somewhere around dawn with one hand under his head and the other over Steve’s sternum. 

***

Tony pushed open the hospital room’s door quietly. Barnes was sitting silently at the side of the hospital bed, holding onto Steve’s hand gently. Sugar looked over from her spot at foot of Steve’s bed but went back to staring at Barnes with a huff. Spice got up from where she was curled up at Barnes’ feet to push her nose into Tony’s hand. He patted her head, still not sure how he managed to get himself a dog-friend, not even entirely sure if he wanted one. 

“Your turn to babysit?” Barnes asked, looking over his shoulder. 

“Babysit?” Tony repeated. He pulled up the chair under the window a little closer. Steve was still looking a little rough. His face was bruised pretty much beyond recognition, and his left leg was in a cast and hung in a sling up above his head. His arms were completely bandaged up, and Tony knew that his torso was probably the same. He knew the aftermaths of torture. Knew it all too well. 

“Fury’s worried ‘m gonna go berserk or somethin’ over this. Afraid of me turnin’ back into Winter. Romanoff and Barton took shifts earlier to keep an eye on me.” 

“I don’t know anything about that. I just wanted to come see how you two were. I heard he was going to pull through.” 

Barnes nodded with a small, forced smile that showed more pain than joy. “He’ll live. They jus’ don’ know if he’ll wake up. ‘s a waitin’ game now.” 

They both sat there in silence. Tony petted Spice some more, trying to think of something to say. His mind was always going a hundred miles per hour, and it usually all spilled out. He just couldn’t stop it most of the time. He would go on and on for hours about anything and everything until someone just left. But, Tony just couldn’t find anything to say. Just being here, just seeing the worry and love that Barnes had for this man Tony has never met with their dogs around them, their life around them—it just felt like a violation. It reminded Tony how much Barnes really was just a stranger. Before yesterday, Tony wouldn’t even be able to recognize him on the street. 

“I never— I mean I didn’t,” Barnes cleared his throat and looked down at where his hand was resting in Steve’s. “I realize now that what I did wasn’ right. I shouldn’ have kept Steve—my life from you guys for so long.”

Tony paused. “We all have secrets,” he tried. 

“This wasn’ just some run of the mill secret, Stark, and we both know that,” Barnes shook his head. “I jus’—I didn’ want… Look, you read my file, right?” 

“I don’t see how that…”

“I jus’ want you to understand, and I’m not too good with explainin’ things these days. Lord knows enough people tell me. But, you read it, right? I know the team had to give the thumbs up for me to join, and ‘m sure they gave out a file to read.” 

Tony nodded. “I may have skimmed it.” 

“I don’ remember most of it—No, that ain’t it,” he contradicted. “I remember it all. Crystal clear. I jus’ don’ know what’s mine sometimes and what’s HYDRA’s. I remember the first time I was captured, back before you were even an idea. And I remember my death. Well, my almost death, I guess. And then after that, everythin’ is kind of questionable, not reliable kind of. But I remember… I remember about six years ago I had this one mission, in the desert somewhere, and I had to kill this engineer. It wasn’ unusual or anythin’. I killed plenty of science types, but this guy… this guy was under _Captain Rogers’_ protection.” 

Barnes chuckled to himself like he was the only one in on some joke and then sobered and continued. “Pierce, who was still in charge at the time, told me to jus’ get rid of the army captain, too. He was gonna be part of the carrier mess anyways, so better to just get it over with then and there. I didn’ argue with ‘im. Arguing wasn’ really somethin’ I did back then, ya know?” 

No, Tony didn’t know. And he never wanted to know. He nodded just because he didn’t want Barnes to stop. Just thinking about that file made his heart sink low in his chest. 

“So I’m on this mission, and my sniper rifle fails. To this day, I don’ know what happened, but it jus’ didn’t work. But, I had to finish this mission, so I decide to jus’ go in and get rid of ‘em myself,” Barnes ran his hands over his face quickly. “Steve was the only person I ever fought that didn’t try to attack me back. Can you believe it? You see this big buy with a _metal fucking arm_ comin’ at ya with a knife in one hand and a grenade in the other, and ya don’ fight back. It was pure fuckin’ insanity. Steve was on the defense the whole time. He used a trash can lid as some kind of shield. And I was so used to people tryin’ to hurt me back, tryin’ to kill me, ya know, that I was jus’ so fuckin’ mad that this guy wasn’t. He kept tellin’ me that he didn’t wanna fight me. That I wasn’t his enemy. And I jus’ kept screamin’ back that he was mission until… until he jus’ stopped and told me to finish it. And…And I couldn’t.” 

“He would’ve let you kill him?” Tony asked. 

“He’s one stupid son of a bitch,” Barnes nodded. “But after that, I couldn’t do it anymore. My old self was startin’ to come back, and I had to escape. So I did, after I helped destroy HYDRA. I kept to myself a while, tryin’ to get my head back, and then I turned myself into SHIELD. But the entire time, I kept thinkin’ about this big, blonde idiot who was willin’ to die to prove some goddamn point. And you know what, life is such a finicky bitch that one day, there he was. He was just sittin’ there on a park bench, and the next thing I knew, I was talkin’ to him like some normal fuckin’ person who didn’t almost kill him.” 

The gears in Tony’s head started to turn. “Does he know?” 

Barnes looked up. “He’s a history professor specializin’ in World War II. Of course, the punk knows. My face is in every fuckin’ history textbook thanks to all the hard efforts of the Commandos. He knew the second I started talkin’ to ‘im that day in the park, but he let me think he didn’t. He wanted me to tell ‘im on my own or some shit, which is a whole other thing,” he looked back to Steve. “Ya know, the night before I was supposed to go on my first mission, he kissed me when we were in Central Park and told me he was tired of waitin’ on me to get with the picture. I knew then that I couldn’t bring him into this life. I couldn’t risk it. He saved me, and I wasn’t just gonna become an Avenger, the most public and dangerous gig in the world, and put ‘im in danger. So I jus’ decided to be James Buchanan Barnes around ‘im and be the Winter Soldier around you guys. I was so used to bein’ two people for so long, that a little while longer didn’ seem so bad. 

“I think… I think I was a little bit scared, too. Like I said, you read my file. You know about the things that I’ve done. How would ya have felt knowin’ that your dad’s best pal killed-“ Barnes’ voice cracked, and Tony looked at the floor, ignoring the tear rolling down the other’s cheek. “I was still runnin’ from the things that I had done, and I don’t know if I’m ever gonna stop.” He sucked in a breath and wiped his face with his metal fist. “I jus’ wanted you to know that I would’ve done it differently if I could and that I’m sorry. I really am, Tony. And I understand if you don’t want me on the team anymore.” 

“Don’t want you on the team?” Tony repeated. 

Barnes nodded. “I lied to you for years. I know we can’t jus’ make that go away.” 

“I didn’t come to kick you off the team. I came to ask if you’ll move in with me!” Tony waved his arms around, and both dogs looked up to stare at him. They mimicked Barnes’ confused face almost perfectly. Tony thinks it should be their next holiday card. “That didn’t come out right. Look, all of us know what it’s like to have a past we wish we could forget. If I could just completely erase like the ’92 to ’96 era, I would. Your past happened to come with decades of torture, lots of trust issues, and a group of highly trained bad guys wanting to kill you and everything you love. None of us are upset that you hid. How could we? You had something you needed to protect, and that was the best way to do it for it a while. We get it.” 

Barnes stared for a second and then looked away. He started to pick at a frayed string on Steve’s blanket. He looked back up with what Tony thinks is a confused expression, but he couldn’t really tell that from Barnes’ murder face. “Did you ask me to move in with you?” 

“Yes,” Tony took it in stride. “I heard your apartment got destroyed, and I happen to have an extra floor here in the Tower and was coming to ask if you wanted it.”

“Really?” 

“The Tower is one of the most secure buildings in the world. No better place for a reformed assassin and his secret lover.” 

“Not so secret anymore,” Barnes murmured. He looked at Steve for a moment and sighed. “Dog friendly?” 

“Only if I’m first in line to dog-sit your murder pup.”

Barnes snorted. “Our lease was up anyways.” 

Tony was about to respond when there was a knock to the door. Clint popped his head through. “Uh, there’s someone here to see Steve?” 

Barnes turned in his chair to look at Clint with narrowed eyes. 

“Oh just let me in!” Someone cried before pushing Clint into the room to get through. Tony didn’t immediately recognize him. There wasn’t really anything that stood out about this average looking man in his average clothes, which was probably the strangest thing about him. Average stuck out like a sore thumb most days. 

Barnes smiled when he saw who it was, and Clint and Tony shared a cautionary glance as Sugar jumped off the bed only to be picked up by the man. Spice trotted over to sniff at the man’s knees. “Sam,” he said as he stood. “Am I glad to see you, pal.” Barnes walked over and clapped apparently-Sam on the shoulder and took his bag off his shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam responded. “Would’ve been here sooner, but my flight got delayed like 4 freaking hours. How is he?” 

“Alive, but out. Docs don’ know how long it’ll be until he wakes up,” Barnes explained with the same disassociated tone he explained it to Tony. “But, uh, come on. You met Clint Barton. This is—“ 

“Tony Stark. Yeah, I know. Me and the entire world,” Sam said. He put Sugar back where she was laying by Steve’s feet and extended a hand out to Tony. He took it. “Sam Wilson. Steve’s best friend, no matter what this asshole tells you. I flew in from DC this morning.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Tony said, standing himself. He looked over at Clint, trying to plan their escape through eye-contact only as Sam and Barnes talked in low tones to each other.

***  
“Got ya somethin’,” Steve said as he jumped over the back of the couch and smushed a kiss onto Bucky’s check. 

“Hello to you too, doll,” Bucky responded still not really caught up in the moment from where he was mending a pair of socks. 

Steve shoved a package in his hand with a wide toothed grin. “Open it.” 

“Okay, okay, sheesh, give a guy a minute, will ya?” 

Bucky opened the brown paper carefully and pulled the picture frame out slowly. 

It was weird looking at yourself through a piece of glass and a century’s worth of time. He almost didn’t know what he was looking at until he recognized Dum Dum’s stupid smile as he clapped Morita on the back and Dernier sticking a piece of fake dynamite into Jones’ pocket. They looked so young and so fucking naive that Bucky almost didn’t want to recognize them. They didn’t know what was coming for them. They never did. They never will. 

Bucky dragged his finger over his old sniper rifle and his face that looked like it was from sort of movie reenactment of his life. He didn’t have any wrinkles, any scars, any worries except a silly little war no one really took seriously in hopes they wouldn’t get scared to death about heading skull first into battle. James Buchanan Barnes was almost a faded memory at this point. 

He didn’t know what to say. Or to think. “This was early in the war,” was what he settled on. Steve put his hand on Bucky’s bicep. “I almost didn’ recognize this lot of fools.” 

“One of the nursing professors had one of the originals left from her aunt somewhere.”

“Must of been an old aunt.” 

“You’re practically a fossil yourself.” 

Bucky snorted and stared at the picture. He doesn’t remember when or where it was taken. It must have been somewhere in Italy, or maybe France. Somewhere before the mountains and the cold. They looked so young and so carefree that Bucky almost wanted to jump in and tell them to run for their lives. He wanted to warn them that they would never be the same. They would probably all laugh in his face anyways though. They always knew that. They never expected any less. 

Bucky stood up and felt as Steve’s arm dragged down his back. He put the picture up on the mantel next to one of Steve and Sam smiling in the desert with their extra shirts over their heads and a sun burn on the back of Steve’s ears. Bucky wondered if Steve felt the same when he looked at that picture. If he felt this intense amount of regret and relief and some sort of nostalgia all at the same time. He would sometimes wake up to Steve standing in front of it looking between the picture and his purple heart. He guessed it was similar. 

“You alright?” Steve asked. 

“I didn’ think I would ever see them again is all.” 

***

Steve woke up three days later, and the entire team went by to say hi… except for Tony. By then it had come out that Clint and Natasha both already met Steve, and Tony was a little bit hurt, not that he would ever admit that in a million years. But Tony liked to think of himself as a pretty savvy guy, and he liked to think that he was quick witted. So the fact that Tony was the last to know, well, it was a pride thing really. But like he said, he would never admit that. 

“You’d like him if you talked to him,” Bruce mentioned casually on the third day as they were adjusting some experimental data with the arc reactor. 

Tony told JARVIS to rerun a calculation, just to see if it got the same result, before he looked over to where Bruce was watching him over his glasses. “I don’t see why I have to meet him.” 

“Because he’s going to be living in your building? And he’s our teammate’s boyfriend? And, oh yeah, you saved his life?” 

Tony waved a hand in the air. “I save plenty of people’s lives. I don’t visit all of them in the hospital. That would take forever,” he stated. He fished some dried cherries out of one of his desk drawers and frowned at the low amount of snacks he was currently hoarding in the lab. “Besides,” Tony continued. He held the bag out to Bruce, who just shrugged it away. “I doubt he wants a stranger coming in and ruining his recovery. I know I certainly didn’t.” 

“Barnes said he wanted you two to meet though.” 

“He did?” 

“He did.” 

Fuck. 

That’s how he ended up standing outside the hospital door for two awkward minutes, wondering if he should go through with it or if he should just go somewhere else on the hospital floor and make himself busy. He didn’t know why this was so hard. 

No, that wasn’t true. He did know why. 

Because the man in there was the common hero in the only thing his father ever spoke about with some sort of affection. And the other guy was low-key some national hero with more medals than makes Tony suit. And what was he? Just some billionaire who didn’t get his shit together in time to actually do anything good, he guessed. And they both would know it when he went in, and he wasn’t about to let his recent self-confident bubble burst because he decided he was going to talk to the two dudes in the entire country that could walk into a bodybuilding competition on accident and somehow _win_. 

He sighed, and pushed the door open. 

Barnes’ back was to the door, like he was the first time Tony came in, but he was leaning all the way back in his chair with his arms crossed in front of his chest. They weren’t really talking when he came in, but they probably just finished. Neither one of them looked too happy with the other, if he was being honest, which he tried to do these days. They looked like what him and Pepper did after the second time he proposed. 

Spice was the first one to notice him and came tumbling into Tony’s thighs from where she was wrapped around Barnes’ feet. Sugar woofed once from where she was resting on Steve’s lap and also jumped down to join in the pet fest that Spice was getting in on. Well, Tony thought, if this all failed drastically, he could probably get Spice on his side with a little bit of beef jerky and a couple tennis balls. 

“Girls, leave him alone.” 

Tony looked up from where he was wordlessly staring at the dogs below him and finally got a good look at Steve. He looked a lot better, like a _lot_ better. There were still some purple bruises around his face, and his arms were still bandaged. But he got most of his color back, and his hair no longer looked like straw glued onto the top of his head. Tony finally got to look at him no longer as a dying patient and noticed that he had an impossibly strong jaw and cheekbones you could cut diamonds on. He even had perfect teeth, he thought. Not that he cared at all. Not one little bit. 

“Stark,” Barnes said from where he had turned around in his chair. “I didn’t think you were going to come.” 

“Well, I always make time for adoring fans. Don’t I?” Tony asked and walked closer to the bed with both dogs circling around his feet. “Tony Stark,” he said to Steve as he stuck out a hand. 

Steve shook it with a slight wobble in his arm but no pain showing on his face. “Steve Rogers.” 

“Sam and Natasha just left to get some coffee.” 

Tony nodded. He didn’t really know what to say. He knew that he should probably ask how Steve was doing, but he kind of already knew the answer to that. And it was he was doing real shitty. He was still in the hospital after getting tortured by his boyfriend’s previous employers. You could call that a really bad retention plan. “How’s the building treating you?” is what he said instead, like that was somehow _better_ than just asking how he was. 

“Oh, it’s good. Probably top three hospitals inside residential buildings that I’ve been in,” he replied. 

“Only third?” 

“Mhmm,” Steve replied, turning his head to look at him. “The nicest one was probably in Istanbul when I was on a recon mission once. These little old ladies turned their apartments into a spy sanctuary. Very cool.” 

“Airforce?” 

“Army,” he corrected. “8 and a half years.” 

“Your guys’ purple hearts all look the same anyways,” Tony said. 

“Don’ I know it.” 

A nurse came in soon after and looked over Steve’s charts. “What would you say your pain level is right now Mr. Rogers on a scale of one to ten? Ten being the worst and one being no pain.” 

“Probably only a five right now, Sheryl.” He smiled tightly, but Tony watched as he wrapped one of his arms around his ribs.

Barnes narrowed his eyes. “It’s more like an eight.” 

“If you’re in serious pain, Mr. Rogers, we can give you some more medication right now, just to alleviate the pain better.”

“That’s alright. I’ll be able to tough it out,” Steve responded. The nurse nodded and then took a look at Steve’s IV before leaving. 

Bucky leaned forward in irritation when she left. “Steve-“ 

“Why don’ you go take a shower or somethin’, Buck? Tony can make sure I don’ disappear for a half hour,” Steve said to Barnes with a very fake looking smile. Tony wondered if it hurt his cheekbones. It kind of made his head hurt just looking at it. 

“ _Steve_ -“ 

“I’ll be fine,” Steve interrupted. “You stink. Don’t come back ‘til you’re clean.” 

Barnes sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before getting up to go. He patted Spice once on the head as he passed, but didn’t look back otherwise. 

“Everything all right between you two love birds?” Tony asked as he sat down, seeing as he was volunteered to stay for a while. Honestly, it was a little presumptuous to think he could stay at all. He wasn’t busy, but still. They didn’t know that. 

“You don’t really have to stay,” Steve said instead of answering the question. “He just won’t leave unless someone else is here.”

“He’s worried,” Tony replied, remembering the defeated look on the man’s face when they brought Steve back, when the doctors said they didn’t know if they were going to be able to save him. Hell, Tony thinks he would never leave again too if something were to happen like that to Pepper or Rhodes. 

“He’s annoyin’ the nurses, and me too, is what he’s doin’.” 

“So he has poor social skills. What else is new?” Tony shrugged. 

Steve snorted. “That’s one way to put it. I break out of a hospital one time, and suddenly he thinks I’m a fucking flight risk. I clearly could not leave right now if I tried.” Tony thinks maybe the apparently too little morphine was talking here.

“I’m sorry,” Tony replied, raising a hand. “Did you say break out of a hospital?” 

“I got lightly stabbed once-“ 

“Lightly?” 

“Yeah, it was fine. Anyways, I left before they told me I could because, like, I had to go home and feed the dogs. And they started callin’ Bucky because they thought I was gonna die in the street or somethin’. It was all just very overdramatic.” 

Tony ignored the nickname that he didn’t really understand, and instead focused completely on the fact that this American hero in front of him with a cookie cutter life apparently was casually wondering around the streets of Manhattan with life threatening wounds and being a threat to everyone’s mental stability. Man, with stunts like that, even though he really didn’t want to, he just might like this guy, or at least would like to hear him say a little bit more wild under the influence of what he knew was very good drugs. He hated when Bruce was right. 

***

Bucky watched as Steve took the first bite of dinner. 

“Is it good?” Bucky asked, worried with anticipation. 

Steve took a bite another bite and then put the fork down. He looked Bucky in the eye and sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. 

“It’s terrible isn’ it?” Bucky said already trying to find a way to get rid of it. Maybe throw it out the window, he thought. Pot and everything. They didn’t really need it. The stores now sell them for cheap. 

Steve paused. His face split open into a big, toothy grin, and Bucky felt the urge to kick him under the table. “It’s real good, Buck,” he answered before shoveling another forkful into his mouth. 

“You asshole,” Bucky replied before taking his first bite. It wasn’t as good as his ma’s, but it wasn’t bad either. It made a perfectly fine dinner for a nice night in. 

“It’s good,” Steve repeated, putting his hand on top of Bucky’s arm. “Really.” 

“Don’ go fillin’ my head up with smoke.” 

“I’d never.” Steve lifted one of Bucky’s hands and kissed at his knuckles. Bucky squeezed his fingers tightly and couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“Steve,” he said after a moment. “I wanted to ask you somethin’. I was wonderin’ if you maybe wanted to-“ 

Bucky’s phone went off from the other room. His Avengers phone. “Shit,” he said. He jumped up and raced over to see what the message was. “Steve, I’m real sorry, but I gotta-“ 

“Go,” Steve finished or maybe commanded. “It’s alright.” 

Bucky looked away from the phone and over at the dining room table. He really went all out tonight. The lights were dimmed as much as they could go, and he filled the bookshelves and the table with the random candles that Steve had collected over the years. They had wine, in real wine glasses Bucky bought for $2 each from the old lady moving in with her grandson downstairs. He put out the best plates they had and tried his damndest to make his ma’s famous chicken stew. 

Steve looked breathtaking in this light, in this house, in this entire fucking world. Bucky almost wanted to say, ‘Hell with whoever needs saving’, and just stay here the rest of the night, maybe for the rest of his life. 

His phone chirped again with coordinates of somewhere in the city. 

“It’s alright,” he heard Steve say again. 

He went to go get changed. 

When he came back into the main room. Steve was feeding bread to Spice from under the table and sipping quietly on his wine. He looked over at Bucky and smiled slightly. 

“I’m really sorry,” Bucky said because he felt like he had to. He had been planning this night for weeks and still found a way to ruin it. 

“I don’ mind,” Steve said. “More food for me anyways.” He took another bite and smiled with his mouth full. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Go, Buck,” he said, waving his hand. “We’ll be here waitin’ for when you get back.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can check out my [tumblr](http://bagels-and-seagulls.tumblr.com/) for the masterpost and better versions of the art


End file.
